


crash, crashing, crashed

by lordyuuri



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Arranged Marriage, But alas it is not meant to be, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Ingrid's heart belongs to another, Ingrid-centric, Post-Time Skip, Sad, Sylvain just wants to see her happy, Unrequited Love, With that another being Ashe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordyuuri/pseuds/lordyuuri
Summary: Marriage is not always driven by love, though she wishes it was.
Kudos: 9





	crash, crashing, crashed

_“lovingly, you sign your heart away,” i was once told._

_i signed my heart away, but not lovingly._

She looked nice, quite nice. White, neat, crisp dress complementing her sunflower-kissed hair and olive eyes. She looked elegant – which was a first. Then again, there was a first for everything, Ingrid figured.

The mirror showed Ingrid as a beautiful woman, elegant and dressed up as befitting of a noble. Ingrid supposed that Annette and Mercedes would be in awe of her makeup; it was subtle but charming. Light blush on her cheeks, matte red lipstick. Dorothea would faint if she could see her now.

It had taken hours for the servants to put the makeup on her. Ingrid fussed about everything they had shown her. It was all too trendy for her, too cute, too graceful. She squirmed and fidgeted and then she’d be chastised. “Stay still, Lady Ingrid,” they had said to her. “The makeup will be ruined if you move.”

If she had the strength to do so, Ingrid would grab a towel and smear all the hard work off. She wanted to rip the white gown off and toss it aside. It was stupid, she thought. It looked stupid and it felt stupid and _she felt stupid_.

Today, she will be marrying a man whose name she barely cares to remember. Her name is probably of little importance to this man. To know not a thing about the one you’re supposed to love; her lips quivered.

A knock on the door took her out of her thoughts. She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

“Who is it?”

“It’s your boy,” came the reply. Warmth bubbled in Ingrid’s chest. A smile dared to appear on her face and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Come in, Sylvain.”

“I had to sneak in here,” Sylvain said once he entered, closing the door quietly behind him. “They kept insisting that I wasn’t allowed to see the bride. But the bride’s my dearest friend, so I _obviously_ had to see how she looked like.”

Sylvain stepped back from Ingrid, gazing at her. She, too, gazed at him. This is far from the first time she has seen Sylvain dressed up – unlike Ingrid, dressing for the occasion isn’t a problem that befalls him. He’s all dressed in the black garb that all Gautier men wear for special moments like this, though she noticed he’s forgoing his family crest.

“You do look very beautiful. Shame it’s not us getting married.”

Ingrid couldn’t help but pout, using that to prevent a smile from creeping onto her face. Sylvain always knew how to elicit some kind of reaction out of her. “Don’t make me punch you.” She looked away, choosing to stare at the hem of her dress. She would’ve much preferred to marry Sylvain. She would’ve preferred to marry anyone, even –

Ingrid shook her head. It’s best not to think about him, she thought. It’s best not to think about what could have been.

Sylvain laughed, but it was short, almost hallow. Silence fell into place between them for a few moments. It’s a bit uneasy, not the sort of comfortable silence they would fall into when she managed to convince Sylvain to actually study back in their academy days, and Ingrid wished Sylvain would say something to lighten the mood.

“You aren’t happy Ingrid. It’s not hard to see.” Straight to the point. Ingrid exhaled.

“Sylvain, I don’t want to talk about – “

“If you’re going to marry someone, at least marry the one boy I know you’d be happy with.”

Ingrid stayed quiet. She fiddled with the ruffles of her dresses, the softness of it a good momentary distraction. Her father said she looked beautiful in it, absolutely stunning.

She looked into the mirror again. This beautiful woman stared back at her. This stunning woman that looked just like her, right down to the braided her and the painted lips and the sadness in her eyes.

“I saw Ashe the other day, Ingrid –“

Ingrid could feel a headache coming on. Better than the tears, she supposed. “Don’t say his name.”

“You were the first person he asked about,” he continued. “You. He’s a very good knight, Ingrid, just like he wanted to be. Damn good. There’s someone else who could’ve been a knight with him. Someone I know who wanted to be by his side.”

“You know for a fact that it’s not that easy, Sylvain. It’s…it’s not as if…House Galatea needed – “

“Oh c’mon, Ingrid. Don’t be that way. You two were practically head over heels for each other. Even Dimitri noticed. Dimitri, of all people. That _says_ something, Ingrid.”

“And what does it say, Sylvain? What could it possibly say besides that I had a puppy crush?”

“It says that you are coming up with excuses to not follow your own dreams. You _love_ Ashe. Much more than some puppy crush. Much more than whatever bastard is taking your hand in marriage.”

“I asked you – !” She paused, taking a breath before speaking quieter. “I asked you not to say his name.”

“Ingrid, we’ve been friends since we were children. One of my closest friends, someone I can always trust. You’ve gotten me out of trouble so many times; it’s my turn to help you, Ingrid. Let me help you.”

The words she wanted to say seem to stay stuck in her throat. To help her. Oh, how Ingrid would loved to be helped. How she would love to be whisked away from flowers and purity and into freedom, her freedom. Her path that she wished she could’ve made, to walk down on with _him_ by her side.

But she can’t. She can’t and Sylvain doesn’t understand why even though he made it sound so easy. And perhaps it is so easy, easy to throw away this veil and run, but it is not about her, she thought. It is about the fate of Galatea, her family, all but her. Everything she does is for all but for her. A knight sacrifices all; she is simply doing her duty.

The door swung open, and the ladies that made her look presentable scurried in, surrounding them both. She noticed how Sylvain narrowed his eyes, regarding the intruders with disdain. Shock and annoyance are painted on their dolled-up faces, and they all swat at Sylvain.

“Margrave Gautier, sir, you can’t be in here!”

Sylvain threw his hands up. “Alright, alright, I’m going. I just had to see Ingrid, let her know that I support her always.”

Two of the women led Sylvain out of the room while the others enclosed Ingrid, smiles on the faces and flowers in their hands. Ingrid resisted the urge to shudder.

“Lady Galatea, are you ready?”

No. She will never be ready. Not for this. Not ever for this.

“Yes, I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing fanfics to kill some time until online classes start since my university is one of many that suspended classes oof.
> 
> I had this story on the backburner for months and I'm still not really feeling it but I was tired of just doing...nothing with it. So here it is.


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